


Hair

by Jathis



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fibro Cecil, Fibro Kevin, M/M, Native American Cecil, Native American Kevin, POCecil, Trans Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the same vein as "Legs"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

“Do you ever braid your hair?” Carlos asked one day. It was one of those lazy days, (not as lazy as the Lazy Day had been of course), and Carlos had looked over at Cecil, sitting in his wheelchair with his back to him as he idly dusted some furniture, his hair down at the moment instead of its usual plain ponytail.

He blinked at the question and thought about for a moment before turning his wheelchair to look over at Carlos, shrugging his shoulders. “Sometimes,” he confessed, “I only braid it on special occasions really. My mother used to braid it whenever I was on a camping trip with the rest of scouts!” he added with a smile.

“Well why don’t you braid it more often?”

Cecil shrugged, “I’m lazy and it’s too long to try and braid blindly like this.”

“Can I braid it?”

“Now?” His cheeks burned when Carlos smiled and nodded his head and he bit the end of his index finger, struggling to keep down a giggle that threatened to surface.

“If that’s okay with you,” Carlos added.

“Yes!” Cecil suddenly screamed, clapping his hands over his mouth in embarrassment.

Carlos laughed and stood up from the table, moving to stand behind Cecil’s chair and push him into the kitchen, helping him to change from his wheelchair to one of the cushioned chairs at the dinner table. He then went to a get brush, returning to start running it through Cecil’s hair, followed by his own hand, fingers running through inky black hair.

“…You like my hair?” Cecil softly asked.

Carlos smiled, nodding his head as he looked down at him. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“Not…not as beautiful or perfect as yours!” Cecil quickly corrected.

“Well of course not,” Carlos teased, laughing when the other pouted at this. “I like your hair, Cecil. It’s so thick and long and…”

“Well if  _someone_  would stop cutting his hair…”

“Cecil, my hair is curly as fuck,” Carlos reminded him.

“That’s no excuse,” Cecil sniffed and Carlos rolled his eyes.

They fell into silence as Carlos continued to brush and play with Cecil’s hair, enjoying the texture and feeling before he then started to actually braid it. His mother had taught him how to braid back home and he was surprised that he had not forgotten how to make a nice and tight braid that wasn’t too hard on the scalp or damaging to the roots. When he was finished he gently held onto the base of the braid, waiting a moment before pulling his hand down before releasing it, loving how smooth it felt now.

“Did you finish?” Cecil asked.

“Feel for yourself,” Carlos said, knowing about Cecil’s aversion to mirrors of any kind. He smiled and watched as Cecil reached behind his head to feel the braid, his face lighting up as he smiled.

“You’re really good at that!”

“Sometimes it pays to have a mother who focused on teaching their child everything a ‘girl’ should know,” Carlos muttered.

Cecil held onto the arms of the chair, using it for support as he pushed himself up onto his feet, hissing a little as his hips protested this action. “Carlos, it’s wonderful! But…”

Carlos cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side, “but..?”

Cecil smiled widely, winking at the other, “but it’s my turn to play with  _your_  hair!”

* * *

“You’ve been trying to grow your hair out again.”

Kevin winced a little at the accusation, his smile wavering a little as he shook his head, giggling. “Growing my hair out? That’s silly talk, Lauren! Long hair isn’t…it isn’t professional!”

“No, it’s not,” Lauren Mallard agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You would never try and be unprofessional, would you?”

_For a brief moment he felt the strong leather straps cutting into his ankles and wrists. Soft words were being pumped into his freshly shaven head and he’s fighting and he’s screaming and he’s cursing and he’s…_

The screws start to turn, digging into his ankles and drawing thin lines of blood to drip into his shoes.

Kevin’s smile slowly grew until he was showing Lauren all of his teeth, shaking his head. “Strex is everywhere,” he said in answer. “Strex is around and inside.”

“Fix your hair before your show starts,” Lauren snorted.

“Of course! Anything you say!” he chirped. The screws finally stopped their twisting and he allowed a small shudder to run through his body once her back was turned. He turned and limped into the bathroom, picking up an animal claw lying on the floor as he approached one of the shattered mirrors, using the claw to deal with his short hair, cutting away any bits that were growing too long to be professional and loved by the Smiling God.

Long hair was bad. Short hair was professional. It was always good and perfect to be professional. Always!

Tears of blood feel from the corners of his eyes, the screws in his hips twisting painfully as he leaned against the sink, humming to himself to drive away the bad thoughts itching and scratching at the back of his skull.


End file.
